Scenes From an Italian Restaurant
by Fenrir's Daughter
Summary: Shirako leaves his favorite club and is attacked by a local drug dealer. But who is the lovely young girl who saved him? ShirakoOC, MonkeyOC. Read and review!
1. Prologue

A/N: So, once again, I gice you a collaberation between me, you beloved Fenrir's Daughter, and me bestest buddy in Buffalo who keeps changing her name. We'll just call her Roro-chan since she can't seem to keep the same penname for a week. Love her to bits, but it makes it so hard to find her on the internet, especially since we aren't usually into the same fandoms. It's a good thing we actually get to meet up in real life from time to time or we'd never get anything done!! Oh, and before I forget:

_**Disclaimer:** Fenrir's Daughter and the collaberator are in no way realated to Hot Wheels or Mattel. We own nothing. Were you to sue us you would wrack up more in legal fees than what you would get from us._

_**Prologue**_

**(-:-)**

Shirako Takamoto was walking down the street at night by the light of the street lamps. He had just left his most recent favorite techno club and was in high spirits from his victory against the reigning champion of the DDR game that was in the far corner of the club.

It was getting late and he needed to get back to his apartment. The Teku were going to be racing in the coming week and he needed to be at his best. That and he just wanted to get back to tuning up Nightlife.

He turned down a dark alley that took him towards the wharf. It was the back way to his apartment, but it wasn't a way to go alone, at night, in the dark…

Shirako knew he made a mistake in taking that route but it was too late. Two tall men, both wearing black, came walking right up to him and grabbed him by the arms. He struggled in their grasp for a while before they pulled him into an abandoned warehouse and dropped him. They stayed by his side to make sure he didn't run.

"Shirako, my mahnnnn!" A very thin, sickly looking man with thin blonde hair tied back in a rubber band came trudging up to face the Japanese American boy. Shirako remembered this man and groaned inwardly. Mahoney Jackson, otherwise known as Ratzo, was his former drug dealer.

"What do you want?"

"Aww, Shirako, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"Yo, we ain't friends." Shirako was cool towards this possible threat. Better not to worry until one knows what the hell is going on. He hadn't seen Ratzo in about three years. Why would he show up after all this time? Not for money – Shirako paid his debt off and stopped that nasty habit.

"Shirako," Ratzo said, "I need some help. Just a little pick-me-up cash. Anything you can spare… maybe a grand? I can give you the good stuff in exchange."

Shirako held up his hands and stepped back a little. "No way man, I tried it those few times but I learned my lesson. I don't do that shit no more."

"Okay, forget the greenies, but I gotta have the money. I'm in a fix, mahnnn, I need the money."

"Yo, I don't have that kind of money…"

"Like hell you don't!" Ratzo snapped his fingers to which the two thugs grabbed Shirako tightly from his shoulders and wrists. The thought crossed Shirako's mind that something bad was going to happen now.

Ratzo balled his fist and slammed it hard into the boy's gut. Shirako grunted and doubled over. The jabbing pain from the thugs' fingers and hands made him gasp as he went down to his knees.

"Quit holding out on me, mahnnn," Ratzo said as he kicked Shirako in the chest with a steel toed boot. "You're a good racer. I've had eyes on you. I know you have the money, so cough it up."

Shirako definitely coughed up something. It was red, though, not green. This wasn't what Ratzo wanted. He wanted green, but the red was good for now until it changed colors. He had one of his men lift up Shirako's head by his hair and Ratzo didn't waste time to throw a hard one against his face. His glasses went flying and shattered somewhere off to the right.

"Oh… shit, yo…"

By this time, Shirako was close to losing consciousness. Since Ratzo went on and on with the beating of his poor body, he welcomed the darkness that wrapped its cold fingers around the edges of his mind.

Maybe it was his time to go. It sure felt like it, so maybe he would go off to a better place, a place where DDR ruled.

After a while, he was laying on the cold, dirty ground of the warehouse, hardly able to make anything out. He didn't have his glasses and he felt so tired and ready to give up. Trying to move, he winced and relaxed his body, truly ready for his sleep. He opened his eyes one last time in hopes of looking upon something not so morbid in his last moments.

Out of the fuzziness he saw the face of an angel. He couldn't believe them and thought they were playing tricks on him, or maybe this angel was going to take him to DDR heaven. He surely hoped so.

"Don't worry," she said, the voice of an actual angel. "I'll get help. Just stay awake…"

He couldn't stay awake. Her voice was like a gentle trance that made his eyes flutter closed. Soon, he was surrounded by darkness.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so there it goes. This is only the beginning, as Roro-chan and I have already completed five chapters in addition to this prologue. I think you will find it rather interesting.


	2. DDR Angel

**_A/N: _**Allon zie, bitches!! Your beloved FD-chan returns to you, with some seriously righteous accompaniment from The illustrious Rosimaru, my buddy Roro-chan who can't keep the same name for a week. Say hello, Rose.

**Rose: **WHEE!!! My name happens to KatsuriJenkins at the moment (though this may change, like my name happens to do weekly/monthly) and this should stick for a while... I hope. Lesse how long-eth this name-eth will-eth stay we me-eth.  
Anywho, disclaimer: "SMITE US ALMIGHTY SMITER!!" We no own, you no sue. Simple as that, so deal with it.

_**Chapter One**_

**(-:-)**

Something pulled Shirako from his sweet sleep. He faintly remembered an angel guiding him to DDR heaven, but it had to have been a dream. He opened his eyes…and almost immediately wished he had not. The bright light seemed to be screaming at his eyes to stay shut, and his head pounded as he stared straight up towards the white ceiling. He looked to his left and saw a flash of momentary red-orange. The face of smooth skin and eyes of the deepest green he had ever seen.

"Angel…" he whispered. The response wasn't what he expected.

"Stop being a stupid ass," another guy said with a Mexican accent. Shirako tried to place the voice with a name. It hit him after a moment. The voice belonged to the leader of the Teku Racers; Nolo Pasaro.

"Whaa… Nolo? Where am I?"

"You're at your apartment, you stupid ass. Man, I thought I told you to stay outta that 'hood. It's a dangerous place."

"Yo, I live there. How'm I supposed to stay out of a 'hood when I live there?" he grumbled, squirming on the bed. "Besides, yo, the rent's cheap."

"Whatever. Choo lucky to be alive right now, choo know dat, foo?" The best way to gauge how upset Nolo felt was to listen to how thick his accent would get. Shirako could tell that the Teku leader was not happy. "If dis chica had no come along to sabe you stupid ass, tu que muerto!!"

The girl who was still there, and seemingly unnoticed to some extent, went up to the raving Mexican boy and slapped him hard behind the head the way DiNozzo would get it from Agent Gibbs in NCIS. It was hard and it hurt.

"Would you cool it, you verbal Speedy Gonzales? He's hurt and you're here screaming at the top of your lungs at something he had no control over. Unless you shut the hell up and let him alone, I'll make sure you sustain twice the amount of injuries he has."

Nolo yammered away in Spanish, swiveling his neck and waving his hands erratically. As far as any present could tell, he was angry about something. Finally, he walked away, shaking his head, and quietly uttering the names of several saints.

"…Well, okay then. What was that about?" The red-haired girl blinked and looked down at the older teen, surprised. Shirako looked incredibly confused, but she could not blame him for it. "Yo, whassup?"

"You got your ass kicked by some lame-o drug dealer," she said. "My buddy Frankie scared him off and we took you to free clinic on Grant Street, got you fixed up. That Mexican's number was the first on your contacts list, so we figured he was a good guy to call."

She put a delicate hand on his forehead and smiled down at him. "And, no, I'm not an angel," she continued. "My name's Quinn. Quinn Santorelli."

Shirako blushed and pushed her hand away. "Yo. Who said anything about angels?"

"You did," she said. "You were really freaking out your friend there, kept muttering about an angel taking you away. Something about DDR heaven. It was weird."

"Aw, hell naw…"

"Aw, hell yeah," she said, mocking him. She put her hand on his forehead, and this time slapped his hand away when he tried to brush her off. "What, you'd rather get ass violated by a thermometer?"

At this, Shirako grew pale and became compliant. He was tired anyway.

* * *

"I came as soon as I got your message," Karma said breathlessly as she crossed the threshold. "Is he awake yet?"

"Cabron just came out of his siesta. She's in there with him."

She? What did Nolo mean, 'she?' "Who's in there with him? Did you call his mom?"

"Naw, it's just some white chic named Quinn." Nolo went on to explain what he knew; getting separated from Shirako at the club the night before, his run-in with Ratzo, and how Quinn had been at the clinic when Nolo came looking for him. Karma rushed past him and into the room just as Kurt and Vert arrived. There, fussing over an irritated Shirako, was a red haired girl in a red tank top. She wore baggy pants, good for clubbing, and thick emo glasses in front of her deep green eyes, a green so vivid like brake fluid.

"Yo, I told you, I don't got a fever," Shirako insisted. He tried to get out of the bed, but she pushed him back down again.

"Yo, I told you, you have three cracked ribs, a mild concussion and a fractured wrist from your little skirmish. Now quit squirming around or you'll re-open the wound on your head. Do you want me to strap you down like the freaks in a psych ward?" Shirako opened his mouth to protest, but Quinn cut him off. "Yeah, I bet you'd like that, you freak."

"Oh, that is nasty," Karma said.

"Karma! OMG, yo, you gotta save me from this weirdo!" Quinn took that as an insult.

"Oh, by all means, call the person who saved your life a weirdo. That sure makes me feel accomplished, you little jerk. Maybe I _should _violate your ass with a thermometer."

"Now, that's just plain sick," Nolo commented. "Look, thanks for saving him an' all, muchas gracias, but really, you can go now. We can handle it from here."

Quinn's mouth formed a cold, cruel line. She grabbed her back pack. "Fine," she said, flatly. "I'll see you 'round, Shirako. Hope you feel better. Get well soon."

Shirako's eyes widened. "Wait, you're leaving? But I just woke up!" Things would be difficult for him with his arm in a cast; looking down he realized she had already signed her name on it while he was sleeping. As Quinn reached his bedroom door, he called out to her.

"Wait!" he said, blushing darkly. "I—in Japanese culture, when you save someone's life that makes you responsible for them. You can't go. I—"

Quinn raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips. Shirako swallowed his pride and looked down at the floor. "I don't want you to go."

Quinn cooed sweetly at him and took her seat at his bedside. Nolo and Karma shared a look.

"I think he likes her," she said.

Nolo shook his head. "Must be the head trauma."

* * *

Two nights later, Shirako was happy that he had gotten Quinn to stay. Along with the wonderful care she gave him, he managed to talk to her to the point where they found quite a few things in common. For one, they both had a love for techno clubs. He learned that she had been a regular patron of the club for quite some time, though he had never seen her there. She also drove a Suzuki motorcycle she called Moonshine. The pair got along tremendously well, and Shirako was really starting to like her.

The only thing that worried Shirako was Quinn's friend, Frankie. From the stories Quinn had told him, this Frankie guy sounded like a complete nutjob. He wanted to be with Quinn, but Frankie stood in his way. He had not even met him, and already Shirako hated the guy.

"I miss my baby," Shirako said out of the blue. "Can I go and see Nightlife, make sure she's okay? Pwetty pwease?"

Quinn thought about how good of a patient he was the past two days. After careful consideration, she agreed to take him to the Teku garage back down by the wharf. It didn't take them long to get there by foot so there wasn't a problem. When they walked into the main garage, Taro Kitano was already there with Karma. When the older Japanese man noticed the two, his face seemed to lose a little of his calm detachedness.

While Quinn eyed a hunk of an engine on a nearby work station, Taro grabbed Shirako by his good arm and pulled him off to the side. He spoke quietly in Japanese, knowing Quinn wouldn't understand a word. What she didn't tell anyone was that she was mildly multilingual, knowing a few words here and there, but she knew enough Japanese to recognize exactly what Taro said. She had a little trouble keeping a straight face, but she managed.

When Shirako was pushed away, she went up to his side. "So, what was that about?" she asked. Shirako shrugged.

"I dunno, something about him trying to ask Karma out or something like that."

"Oh." She knew what it really was, though.

Suddenly, her cell phone started spitting out the main theme of Death Note. Taro turned his head in that direction and looked at Quinn. They shared a tiny moment regarding the choice of music before she flipped it open and answered it.

"Chinese Buffet," she said comically. She listened for a moment. "Oh, hey Chet, what's up? What? What do you mean Spitter blew up the rice pudding? What? Why'd he put yeast in pudding anyway? You don't put yeast in pudding! Gah! I'll be there in ten minutes."

She closed her phone and sighed as she turned to Shirako. "I'm sorry, but there's an emergency at the bakery I need to go and clean up for my boss. Do you think Karma would have a problem watching you for a few hours until I get back?" She looked over at the older woman who nodded in agreement.

Taro cursed heavily under his breath and made a note to do something unpleasant to Quinn in revenge. Then a flash went through his mind regarding Quinn and a chain leash. He shook his head and Quinn's image was replaced with Karma's. Then his mind went right to hell and he left the garage with what was left of his dignity.

* * *

**_A/N:_** Dude, that was awesome. I can't wait to actually get the next chapter up, but in order to do that in a timely manner I may have to forego the whole joint-author's note thingy-thinger. What say you, O Katsuri whatever-the-fuck your name is?

**Rose: **Meow. -deadpan-

Yeah, okay. Nice seeing you again, sweetie! Well, folks, looks like I will be posting again relatively soon!


	3. Devlin's Gorge

_**Chapter Two**_

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Quinn only planned to stay with the teenager for a few days until he could work for himself. A broken wrist wasn't that bad anyway, and she really needed to be on her own again. She missed her old night job.

A week had gone by and she still remained in the guest bedroom of Shirako's apartment. She couldn't bring herself to leave the boy and found herself wanting to be with him more and more. There was some kind of chemistry between them and she could feel it. They were quite different from each other. For one thing, Shirako was passive. He took orders easily enough, but Quinn always had eyes for someone more dominant than she was.

She sat in the kitchen while she thought of one of her old flames. Gregory Conner was a very dominant jock she dated for about a year in high school. While they weren't the perfect match for each other, she managed to get into the good concerts for free in exchange for her tuning up his car. Things went really wrong in their relationship when he wanted something Quinn wasn't ready to give him. The break up was incredibly ugly and it haunted her to that very moment.

The phone rang then and pulled her from her reverie. She got up and was about to answer it when Shirako came in and grabbed it for himself. She shrugged and sat back down, her eyes distancing into something only she could see.

"The Maniacs invited the Teku to Devlin's Gorge Race Track," he said. "I've never missed a gathering. Can I go, pwease?"

Quinn looked up into his puppy-dog eyes and considered his request. It had been a while since his incident with Ratzo, but he was still recuperating from the ordeal. His arm was still healing and his ribs still needed a little more time to be fully one-hundred percent. She was skeptical about letting him go.

But those eyes! She couldn't resist the eyes. He just looked so cute that she had to say yes.

The track was just a subway away from where Shirako lived. She wasn't going to let him on a vehicle unless it was a car. Since she didn't own one, they had to take their time and ride the god-forbidden subway there.

Quinn hated subways. They were dark and cold and there were shadows everywhere. With her past still haunting her, she couldn't help but look over her shoulder a few times. She did it inconspicuously enough that Shirako didn't notice. She wanted it to be that way; there was no way in hell that she was going to let anyone know about that. The only person she told was Frankie, and Frankie would remain the only one.

Another reason she hated the subway was that she had horrible balance in it. Even sitting on the seats she would fall off when the train came to a stop at the stations. It embarrassed her, since she was hell on wheels when it came to racing on her bike, Moonshine. The sight was just pathetic, and Shirako thought it was really cute and told her not to take herself so seriously.

The excitement didn't actually start until the two teens arrived at the race track. Shirako was having a problem with one of the members of the challenging team.

"Yo, the fuck you mean I'm supposed to race you?" Shirako said angrily. He held up his cast. "I can't ride Nightlife like this, you Maniac."

Porkchop huffed. "Well, I guess that's a forfeit, Teku," he said. "You lose by default."

"Hey, it's not Shirako's fault!!" a little red-haired girl told him.

"Now, hold on there, little missy, who do you think you're talkin' to?" At this, Quinn fumed, and she got up in Porkchop's face, pulling on his moustache.

"My name is Quinn Santorelli, and I'm going to kick your redneck ass!"

"Is that so?!" Porkchop bellowed, breaking free. Monkey could see this was going to be a bad night. How could it not be? The red-head reminded him a little too much of his crazy former middle school teacher, Mrs. Gallorum. He shuddered.

"Damn straight!" she growled at the Yosemite Sam wannabe, eyes blazing with challenge. She turned to Shirako and shoved her hand in the back pocket of his pants and searched around in it. In a normal situation, Quinn would never have done this, but this was a dire problem and she so needed to kick someone's ass right then at something.

Shirako blushed deep enough to be related to a beet as Quinn rummaged around in his pocket, completely disregarding his personal space. He would never admit that he liked it, but it was neither the time nor the place to be thinking such thoughts.

The other racers stopped what they were doing when they spied the little happening between Shirako and Quinn. There was something wrong with the position they were in but disregarded it for the moment. When Quinn couldn't find the key in the back pockets, she growled and reached around the Japanese boy's waist to his front pockets.

---

"What the hell is going on over there?" Tork asked, watching the scene unfold. A red haired girl he did not recognize seemed to have her hands down the front of Shirako's pants. Of course, they were only his pockets, but Tork could not know this.

"What are you talking about?" Monkey asked. When Tork pointed out what was happening on the Teku sidelines, Monkey almost jumped from shock. "DAMN!"

"Lucky," Wylde murmured. Taro only shook his head.

---

"Damn," Nolo said, shaking his head. "She couldn't wait 'til they got in the back seat? That is one hot-blooded chica."

"Lucky," Kurt murmured. Vert giggled, but Karma only shook her head.

---

"Ah-ha!" Quinn announced victoriously as she pulled out the shiny silver ignition key from Shirako's pocket. She went up to Porkchop and waved it in his face. "I'll see you at the starting line."

"I warned ya little missy," the large southerner said before starting off. Quinn turned on her heel and stalked off towards Nightlife. Shirako watched her go, and suddenly remembered that she was going to ride Nightlife.

"My baby…" he mumbled.

Quinn said nothing as she pushed Shirako's bike out of the back of Vert's Chevy Silverado and towards the start line of the race track. She got on and started up the bike and looked towards the track. It was a normal race track, nothing much more than that except a few jumps she would have to do. But she might not win the race. She wasn't worried. She wanted to be fair and see that the Teku lost fair and square and with a fight. Besides, it had been far to long since her last race. She missed it.

Shirako and the other racers from the Teku and the Metal Maniacs watched from atop a nearby building. The race had not yet started and Shirako was already up in knots about his precious baby. He didn't know how hard of a racer Quinn was, so he came up with all kinds of scenarios about Nightlife coming out with pieces of metal missing.

But that wasn't all he was worried about. What if Quinn got hurt? Like, seriously hurt? She wouldn't be able to take care of him, and then there was this Frankie character. With the way Quinn talked about him, he was the top muchacho in her life – her boyfriend. If he found out that she got hurt on his bike, Frankie might blame _him._ He didn't want to get his ass kicked again.

"Yer makin' a big mistake," Porkchop said in a last attempt. "Yer young. Ya should be worryin' about boys and yer looks an' things like that."

Quinn pulled on a pair of gloves and yanked on the helmet with the Teku logo. She revved Nightlife a few times. Porkchop revved his Harley.

"I am worrying about a boy," she said. The older man looked at her. She revved Nightlife one more time and smirked. "This is for Shirako."

Nolo sighed.

"This is gonna end in disaster," he said. "I can feel it." Shirako paled.

"For who?" he asked. "The bikes? Please say it's the bikes. We can buy new parts… not new bodies." Nolo just shrugged and gave him a sympathetic smile.


	4. Dark Days and Darker Nights

_**Chapter Three**_

-:-

Porkchop revved his engine, unperturbed. This little girl needed to be taught a lesson, and better she learned it on the track than over his knee. It would be a hard lesson, too, with as badly as he planned to beat her. All that was left was to wait for the green light from Old Murray, the really old dude who worked nights at the race track.

But the green light never came. Rather, there was the honking of a horn and the roaring of an engine as a 1970 Dodge Charger barreled towards the pair of motorcycles. Porkchop was sure he was going to die in that moment, but the car sideswiped and ground to a halt not three feet from where his Harley idled.

"Fuck, Frankie!!" Quinn shouted, throwing her helmet to the ground.

Shirako grew paler by the nanosecond. "Frankie?! Oh shit," he said. "Oh, shit, Yo! I'm gonna die. I'm dead. He's gonna murder me. I'm fucking dead."

Karma blinked. "What's going on, Shirako? Who is that?"

"It's Quinn's boyfriend, Frankie; he's here to murder me!"

Black Sabbath blared ominously from the car speakers and the driver's side door opened. A clunky black boot hit the pavement first. Shirako's heart beat fast enough to put the beating of a hummingbird's wings to shame as he looked slowly up the blue boot-cut jeans and to… the shapely hips and curving bust?

Shirako's jaw dropped. "Frankie's a _chick_?" He chuckled with relief. Maybe he wasn't going to be murdered after all…

The girl in the leather vest grinned. "Q-chan!" she said, holding open her arms. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"You should thank her," Porkchop said with a sneer. "She just saved you one heck of a whoopin'."

Frankie absentmindedly took a large bowie knife from a holster on her belt and began cleaning under her nails. "Are you almost done Yosemite Sam? I have a rather important matter I require to discuss with my associate in private." He stared at the knife blankly. "That means we gotta tawk."

"By all means," he said, cutting the engine and walking his Harley over to the other Maniacs. Wylde eyed him bemusedly. "What?" he hissed. "She had a Big Fucking_ Knife_!"

Quinn cut the engine to Shirako's ride and rolled her eyes once again. "What's up Frankie?"

"Is that any way to greet your bestest buddy in the whole wide world?" she asked with puppy dog eyes, waving her knife erratically.

"Frankieeeeeee…"

Her smile dropped. "Okay, whatever. Where's the pixie? This concerns both of you."

"He is _not_ a pixie!!" Quinn snapped defensively. Frankie snorted.

"Says you, the girl who has fallen quite in love with the little baby pixie man. Just get in the fucking car, Q. C'mon, Shirako, double time. _Mach schnell_."

"Goddamn," she whispered to herself before she nodded and went to Shirako; if Frankie was speaking German, it was serious. She only used her Nazi voice when shit was about to hit the fan. "We gotta go with her, Shirako. This is big."

"Hey, we're in the middle of a race here!" Nolo cried indignantly. "You can't just drive off into the night with one of my guys!"

"Watch me, bitch," Frankie said. She fixed her eyes on Shirako. "The funniest thing happened to me on the way home from my meeting this afternoon. I ran into a young gentleman by the name of Mahoney Jackson, and he seemed ever so eager to see you again. He wants very badly to apologize for a certain incident the other evening."

She grinned, thumbing the blade of her knife. "Or, at least, he did after some…encouragement…"

Shirako raised his eyebrows; he could see very clearly where this was going and knew he had to diffuse the situation before someone got hurt. "Yo, I'm not really the revenge type, Frankie…I mean, I'm grateful an' all, but—"

Frankie looked up at him. "Are you declining my offer, little baby pixie man? I really wish you wouldn't."

Quinn clasped his good hand and looked at him, her eyes pleading, and shook her head. He could see in her eyes that she desperately wanted him to agree with Frankie.

"O-oh, okay," he stammered.

What the hell was he doing?

Nolo sighed as he watched the Charger drive off. "Well," he said, "We're never gonna fucking see _him _again." He raised his hands and slapped them against his hips in emphasis before turning away.

--

Frankie slowed the car in a dark area of the wharf. Shirako looked out of the window as his heart hit it double time.

_Why are they driving down here? _he thought. _It's completely deserted… unless she doesn't want any witnesses. Oh my god… she's going to kill me. She's going to leave my corpse to rot under the docks. Oh god… oh god… oh no… oh god… I'm dead. I'm fucking dead, she's going to kill me! I DON'T WANT TO DIE._

_No… cool it, Shi-kun… everything's cool. You're cool. You're so awesome._

"No you're not," Frankie said from the front seat.

_HOLY SHIT she's in my head! Am I really going to die here? Oh my god… I can't believe I'm gonna die a _virgin. _This SUCKS._

"No… I am," Quinn said defensively, hands running through her hair. "Spitter is totally fired. I mean, something had to possess me to hire him because I never would have. He's a fucking idiot. I mean, think about it: Who the fuck puts yeast in rice fucking pudding? You don't do that!"

Frankie paused and nodded solemnly. "Yeah… he's not the brightest crayon in the box."

"He's a fucking blade of grass in the desert."

"Q… that made no sense."

"I'm pissed, can you blame me?"

"You know I do!" she said cheerily.

"Fucking grammar police," Quinn muttered.

Shirako sighed with relief. Maybe he wasn't going to die after all. He did, however, have to sneeze very badly, and he did.

Frankie and Quinn turned in their seats and eyed the Teku; they had almost forgotten he was there. Frankie cut the engine. Quinn sat in nervous silence.

"Frankie, you don't have to do this…please..."

Frankie shot her a look, silently telling her to keep quiet. Sensing the tension, Shirako thought he might be able to ease things a bit by making a joke.

"So you're the famous Frankie," he said. "The way Quinn kept talking I thought you were maybe her boyfriend."

"Who says I'm not?" Frankie snarled. Shirako's face fell.

"Oh…"

After a few minutes of glaring at him, Frankie could no longer keep a straight face. "I can't believe you fell for that," she choked between the laughter. "God. No, me and Q go way back. We're just friends."

"So, you didn't bring me out here to kill me for making time with your girl?"

Quinn cringed and held her hand to her forehead. Frankie glared.

"Oh god, oh god, oh no, oh god," he said. "You did. You brought me here to kill me. It's deserted and there are no witnesses and I'm going to die a virgin. Fuck!!"

Quinn sighed and got out of the car, silent as ever. Frankie grinned and pulled out her knife.

"You might want to step out of the car right about now, Mr. Takamoto."

When he remained in the back seat, too frightened to move, she yanked him out by his bad arm. Shirako stifled his yelp, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

"Please," he whispered as Frankie dragged him towards the docks. "Please, I-I-I, nothing happened. Really, me and Quinn are nothing. She wouldn't give me the time of day. I'm not good enough for her. Please, _please_ don't kill me…"

Frankie grinned maliciously and stared down her nose into Shirako's little pixie eyes. With a flourish, she put her knife between her teeth and, still holding onto the Teku mechanic, opened the trunk of the car.

Shirako screamed.


End file.
